


Five times Fjord pined after a man...

by CatKing_Catkin



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5 Times, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Declarations Of Love, Falling In Love, Fjord Has Issues (Critical Role), Fjord's Backstory (Critical Role), Fjord-centric (Critical Role), Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Hopeful Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Introspection, Kissing, M/M, Making Out, Male-Female Friendship, Minor Caduceus Clay/Fjord, Minor Fjord/Darrow, Minor Fjord/Mollymauk Tealeaf, Minor Fjord/Sabian, Minor Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett, Mollymauk Tealeaf Dies, Mutual Pining, POV Fjord (Critical Role), Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:35:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22603339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CatKing_Catkin/pseuds/CatKing_Catkin
Summary: ...and one time he spoke his feelings out loud.(Or - Fjord grew up thinking it was wrong to love men, as wrong as everything else about him. He eventually meets some people along the way who help him see otherwise.And who's to say you only get one soulmate, anyway?)
Relationships: Fjord & Beauregard Lionett, Fjord/Caleb Widogast, Jester Lavorre/Beauregard Lionett
Comments: 10
Kudos: 274





	Five times Fjord pined after a man...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yettinim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yettinim/gifts).



_1\. Sabian_

Life at the orphanage is simple. That doesn’t mean it can be called happy.

They are told what to do. They are given names that tell them what they are. And the lessons they are taught about a world that has already treated so many of them so cruelly even teaches them what to want. 

It works in so many subtle ways. One of the ways it works is the bedtime stories. The matron who oversees getting them all quiet and in bed every night is occasionally in the right mood or can occasionally be swayed to tell them stories, if it means the younger children stop crying. 

Her stories are all very similar and usually play out in a similar way, just with the names and places changed. There is a princess in some kind of trouble. Her life is misery and tragedy and then, from out of nowhere, a brave but humble knight appears. He saves her and she kisses him and then they both live happily ever. 

It is the idea of a happy ending that sticks most in Fjord’s mind, the idea that if one just does the right things in the right way then one’s life will make sense and be good forever after. 

(He already knows what it feels like to be wrong and out of place. He has already known mockery and cruelty over the visible marks of his heritage left behind by parents he already does not remember. He has already started to contemplate the idea that his life might be easier if he could just make the two blunt tusks poking up over his bottom lip disappear.

Deep down, he knows that the idea of rescuing a princess and spending the rest of his life with her does not sit as well with him as it should even if it seems so inextricably tied with the promise of a happy ending. He knows how he feels instead about some of the other boys he shares a room with.

Everything else about his life is already something that people want to mock and make him feel like a freak for. So it is easy to think of those feelings in the same way that he thinks of his tusks. He is already wrong in so many ways. Why wouldn’t he be wrong in one more?

Surely, that just means he hasn’t found his princess yet.)

Life at sea introduces a whole host of new complications, but is overall happier. From the very first day he casts off from shore with his very first crew, it feels like coming home.

But eventually, one of those new complications is named Sabian. 

He knew Sabian for a long time before chance threw them together on the same ship, even if he’s not sure it could really be called “knowing”. They shared an orphanage but kept a distance. For Fjord, that distance was born of the shame he felt at his own interest, at knowing that he thought Sabian was particularly beautiful but wishing he didn’t. He would stare, he knows he would stare, in furtive admiration of the half-elf’s easy laugh and bright smile, at his tousled waves of dark hair and deep blue eyes, at the delicate melding of human and nonhuman features that he could admire in someone else (but not in him, never in him).

Once or twice, Sabian definitely noticed him staring. But when he did, he would only ever meet Fjord’s eyes and smile kindly before looking away and there was no way he could have known that such a simple gesture could only ever have sharpened the ache in Fjord until he felt like he was bleeding inside. 

(He left long before Fjord did, stealing away on the first ship that would take him. It seemed like a good idea. Fjord didn’t consciously intend to follow the same path, but he did so in the end.)

Now they share a ship, and distance is a rare and precious thing by necessity. Now Sabian pays attention to Fjord to a degree that he still isn’t used to - as much as Vandren does, and in a very different way. Fjord is still not used to attention. Fjord has made a place for himself in the background, found comfort in being one cog in a machine that helps keep things moving. To do so is useful. To do so means _he_ is useful.

But Sabian keeps seeking him out, helping him with jobs, joining him at meals, smiling at him and squeezing his shoulder and looking at him with a gaze of burning embers that eventually even Fjord can’t keep pretending he doesn’t understand…

Between the press of lips and the grazing of teeth in the darkness of the storage closet, Sabian laughs at how long it had taken for Fjord to get the hint. Fjord gets the wild urge to try and silence him. It doesn’t quite work, but the way Sabian _gasps_ when Fjord fixes his mouth to the curve of his throat makes Fjord feel like he’s doing something right for maybe the first time in his life. 

It’s not the first time they steal kisses and more in quiet, out-of-the-way, shadowy corners of the ship. In fact, at one point it becomes quite easy to find Sabian hiding away, almost like he was waiting for Fjord - and when that happens, Sabian is always happy to turn away from whatever he’d been doing to give Fjord some attention.

It’s not until too late that Fjord realizes that Sabian had taken to hiding away for far more insidious reasons.

It’s not until the bomb goes off that Fjord realizes that maybe Sabian’s easy affections in the dark had just been a way of keeping Fjord quiet and under control.

The feeling of being used never quite goes away. He takes it as a lesson to keep himself and his heart and his stupid feelings on a tighter leash.

* * *

_2\. Mollymauk_

Mollymauk Tealeaf is everything that Fjord is not. He is everything that Fjord didn’t know it was _possible_ to be.

Most of all, Molly (and it becomes so easy to think of him as Molly) is _unashamed_. Fjord can’t imagine that there might ever have been a time when Molly considered _not_ decorating his horns or highlighting his blood-red eyes with makeup. He can’t imagine Molly filing down his thick nails so they look less like claws or keeping his tail hidden in his pants. 

(Not that that would be easy to do - Molly favors _very_ tight pants.) 

“Do you _like_ being a tiefling?” he asks, one night as they’re getting ready for bed in their room, because he’s also realized that Molly is very hard to offend, especially when they’re both as drunk as they are right then. 

Molly is halfway out of his shirt. Fjord hears him curse softly as it catches on the point of his horn, watches him struggle to shimmy free before he discards it carelessly on the floor. He flops down on the bed and stares at nothing, apparently considering the question as his tail sways in gently hypnotic curls behind him.

Finally, he gives a half-shrug and sets to work trying to get his pants off. Fjord hastily turns away, feeling the familiar heat rise up his neck.

Then he hears Molly chuckle breathlessly, feels Molly staring right at him, and an ache he’d thought he trained himself out of a long time ago stabs a little deeper.

“I like being me,” Molly says at last. “And I am a tiefling. So I suppose that means I like being a tiefling, doesn’t it?”

“Guess it does,” Fjord agrees, trying to keep his tone casual and knowing immediately that he’s failed.

Silence hangs between them for a moment that seems to last years. Fjord wonders if Molly is going to ask if Fjord likes being a half-orc. It would be only fair, even if the answer would hurt Fjord a lot more to give. 

But Molly doesn’t ask, because he is a uniquely terrible roommate while somehow at the same time being a creature of boundless insight and empathy. 

And as Fjord realizes that Molly isn’t going to ask, he is seized by a wild urge to ask to kiss Molly instead. He knows that Molly wouldn’t be offended. He’s even reasonably sure that Molly would agree. Fjord isn’t _quite_ as oblivious as the group sometimes teases him for being. So much of Molly’s behavior, down to the act of getting fully undressed every night they’ve shared a room together, has carried the undercurrent of an invitation.

He is reasonably sure that he could even ask Molly not to say anything about it in the morning and Molly would keep quiet. 

“G’night,” his roommate says, drawing him out of his reverie. Fjord glances over without thinking, to see that Molly has already settled down in bed, the covers drawn up to his waist. His back is to Fjord, the better to let him stare out the room’s only window as he sleeps. As Fjord watches, he punches the pillow into a better shape to accommodate his horns and then lays his head down. 

Fjord watches as his tail grows still, watches Molly’s breathing grow slow and even but still visible enough to make the bright splashes of color across his shoulders and back move like living things. 

Fjord smiles, equal parts wry and fond and something else he still doesn’t dare name. “Night,” he says, laying down. An invitation only counts if it’s accepted, after all. He doesn’t expect Molly to wait around forever. 

And yet, the combination of easy hope and no expectation that comes with Molly’s unspoken offers makes it easy to keep turning the matter over and over again in his mind. It makes it easier, as the weeks go by, for Fjord to creep up on the idea that he thinks Molly is beautiful and maybe that is okay. Molly clearly _wants_ to be thought of as beautiful, after all. He would be flattered if Fjord expressed as much. He wouldn’t be disgusted. He wouldn’t _use_ Fjord for secret ends. Molly lies and tricks and deceives but he does not _use_. 

Molly is bright as a jewel, beautiful as a work of art, and Fjord slowly starts to dream of getting his hands on him. He dreams of how those tattoos would feel under his mouth. He dreams of _worshipping_ Molly in bed, and—

He watches Molly stride through life like he has every right to be there and it is _so_ very easy to get caught up in his wake, like Molly is the eastern wind and Fjord is nothing more than a ship with unfurled sails. 

He thinks to himself sometimes, much later on, that he was right on the verge of admitting he had real feelings for his roommate. He was even right on the verge of doing something about it. Hupperduke was what decided him - the sight of Molly dancing with Nott standing on his feet, or weaving silk flowers through his horns and hair, or staring up at the fireworks in rapture. How could Fjord have kept his distance after that?

Just another couple of days after getting back on the road and he could have done it. Just another couple of days to build up his courage and he could have, would have said something.

But of course, another couple of days wasn’t something they were allowed to have. The regret of that fact hangs so heavy on his shoulders that it means he holds on to the falchion a lot longer than is sensible.

He imagines Molly standing beside him as he watches the gleaming golden blade sink into the magma. It’s easy to imagine the tiefling letting out a huff and saying _“about time”_ , and that is a comfort in a moment where it feels like nothing else can be.

* * *

_3\. Caduceus_

He has never felt more cared for and worthwhile than he does in the company of Caduceus Clay.

Caduceus has a way of making everyone feel at ease, really. Despite the horrendous circumstances surrounding their first meeting, Fjord takes to him quickly. He feels moved to protect their new companion, keep him safe and guide him when Caduceus eventually finds himself as far from home as its possible to be. It feels like the least he can do when the rest of the group did the same for him. 

Then he gets to know Caduceus, then the two of them get to talking as weeks at sea roll by, and Fjord starts to feel himself moved by so much more than pity.

He’s never properly gotten to know a firbolg before, and soon finds himself with much to admire about them. He likes the way Caduceus looms gently over everyone around him, appreciates his long fingers and broad shoulders and the downy-soft fur that covers him in patches. He loves watching the sharp and skinny edges of Caduceus’ form fill out slowly, as isolation and the listlessness that Fjord knows it can bring is instead replaced with bustle and chatter. 

He feels proud of himself every time he makes sure that Caduceus doesn’t get so distracted by serving up breakfast to the rest of the party that he forgets to make a plate for himself. 

Fjord has never met someone so sure in his faith and so comfortable with the vastness of what he _doesn’t_ know. Even the relatively brief crisis that Caduceus experiences on the boat only seems to make his faith stronger in the end. Everything he learns, from the structure of a beehive to the sight of an unfamiliar bird, prompts the same bright-eyed smile and murmur of “oh, that’s nice.” Caduceus Clay has a boundless capacity for wonder in a world that he is happy to not understand. So much about him is so very _bright_. It’s something that Fjord finds himself increasingly drawn to, aching to bask in. 

So they get to talking, and Fjord comes to appreciate how straightforward and relentlessly sincere Caduceus is. So when Caduceus starts to tell him things like…

_“I think you’re more important than you believe.”_

_“I think destiny has plans for you.”_

_“One day someone is going to pray for a miracle, and their prayer will be answered because you showed up.”_

…perhaps the most miraculous thing of all is that Fjord finds it _easy_ to believe him. 

So when Caduceus reaches out a hand to pull Fjord up from the fathomless depths that Uk’otoa has dragged him down into, and through him allows the Wildmother to reach out as well, it is so very easy for Fjord to reach back. 

After that, they share a true connection, deep as the roots of the tree atop the Xhorhaus and boundless as the ocean horizon. Through Caduceus, Fjord comes to love the land…not quite as much as he loves the sea, but with a deeper appreciation than he ever thought himself capable. He lets his eyes linger over signs of the Wildmother’s love that he might have passed over before - a flower growing through gaps in the cobblestones, a lazily buzzing bee, the scents wafting up from freshly chopped herbs. 

In turn, he teaches Caduceus about the sea, about navigating by the stars and identifying the shadows beneath the waves, about the nature of the four winds. Caduceus always listens, always delights in what he learns and what Fjord has to say. And sometimes, as talk turns to theology, to Fjord figuring out his place in the Wildmother’s service, Fjord even manages to say something that pleasantly surprises him. 

He is proud of himself whenever he manages to impress Caduceus, and can tell that Caduceus is proud of him, too. 

Caduceus towers over everyone in the Mighty Nein but, when standing by his side, Fjord somehow feels just as tall. He even feels bold enough to display the Wildmother’s symbol before King Dwendel himself, and convinces Caduceus to do the same. 

He is resolved to be a good paladin. He is resolved to be the _best_ paladin. It seems the best way to even begin to make Caduceus feel as _cherished_ as he has made Fjord feel. 

The two of them are soulmates. The word sits easily in his mind and settles in his heart like a purring cat. From there, it is so easy to take the next step and admit it to himself - he loves Caduceus. He adores everything about Caduceus, from the softly tangled waves of his hair to the dirt that is ever present under his fingernails, from his eyes that are pink like clouds at sunset to the impossibly gentle rumble of his voice, never raised in anger.

There is one thing that keeps him from saying as much, and that is the fact that they’ve both pledged themselves to the Wildmother above all else, and She has already decided where they are needed. One day, Caduceus will return to the Blooming Grove. One day, Fjord will settle down to keep watch over the seas. Neither of them would ever ask the other to leave their post. Neither of them would want to.

Until that day comes, he will accompany Caduceus on his quest and help him see it done. He will see the Blooming Grove live again. And he will have faith that Caduceus’ family still lives, because Caduceus deserves that and more, and he makes it easy for Fjord to have faith. He can believe that there is all a plan and it will all be okay in the end. He can believe that he has the strength to make that happen.

Because they are soulmates, and he loves Caduceus dearly. And, as they share a wry smile and rolled eyes over Nott’s head while she talks of brothers, it is easy to believe that Caduceus feels the same.

* * *

_4\. Caleb_

There is no single moment that makes him fall in love with Caleb Widogast. There is just the moment where Fjord realizes he’s been in love for a long time.

The earliest days of the group are rocky and this is perhaps especially true between him and Caleb . It takes a long time for Fjord to appreciate that there were moments he’d acted rashly, out of fear that this wizard - who remained stubbornly impossible to get a read on - might bring this burgeoning sense of safety down around his ears.

By the time he finally swallows the idea that maybe he'd been needlessly jumpy, that maybe turning his blade on Caleb for stealing scrolls when they had already triggered a trap upstairs hadn’t necessarily been a fair play, it’s been long enough that apologizing would be…awkward. Neither he nor Caleb deals well with awkward.

(Even then, there is attraction. Even as Caleb stares defiantly back at him, clutching the scroll case to his chest like it’s his last scrap of food, he is _beautiful_.)

Even then, on some level he leaves that encounter thinking that he’s wasted his chance, somehow (it doesn’t matter that he can’t put words to what “chance” he was hoping to take). As they all leave Zadash - somehow still miraculously together - he carries the thought that he and Caleb will never be more than friendly allies, and he tries to be okay with that. He tries to think about how that will be enough if it means the group can stay whole.

What it all comes down to is that Fjord no longer wants to imagine himself without the Mighty Nein, and he can’t imagine the Mighty Nein without Caleb. It’s a thought that crystallizes in his mind as they all mill about in the Sour Nest, one man down. He offers Caleb the promise of repayment for rescue. Caleb both rejects the idea and, in the same breath, offers Fjord perhaps the only truly safe place to sleep that Fjord has ever known.

And it carries on from there. The Mighty Nein becomes his home. And Caleb becomes his…”rock” is not the right word. It’s not until they’re all adrift at sea together, until he sees Caleb up in the crow’s nest of _The Mistake_ , that Fjord realizes a better descriptor might be “guiding star”. 

Fjord is the captain, and he knows that Caleb doesn’t _want_ to lead, but he certainly seems to have settled into the niche of being their collective sanity check. 

_“Do we want to stay here?”_ he asks, again and again, each time reminding Fjord that no, he really does not. Avantika seems impossible to escape, but that’s no reason not to try. 

_“We might have to make some hard choices to survive this_ ,” he says, as Darktow looms on the horizon and they all huddle in their room together. He meets Fjord’s eyes as he says it, and Fjord feels his stomach twist in dread, but he can also see in Caleb’s eyes that he is far from unsympathetic. He understands the weight of what he is asking without words.

That makes some things easier. 

Then things on Darktow go absolutely to hell, then Caleb summons a wall of fire and Fjord summons a demon, then Caleb takes two bone-rattling strikes from Boulderguts and flees the ship in a blur, only for one impossibly well-placed shot to send him down in a tangle of limbs and blood, hundreds of feet away.

The distance seems insurmountable in the midst of all the chaos. Fjord runs to him anyway, screaming his name and wondering somewhere in the very back of his mind when his feelings got so _complicated_. 

The first proper breath Caleb takes after Fjord pours a healing potion down his throat makes Fjord feel like he’s just remembered how to breathe, too. 

Far beneath the waves, in the depths of Daschilla’s lair, Caleb extends a bloody hand to Fjord and asks if he can count on Fjord to be there, to return the favor. There are a lot of reasons why Fjord takes his hand and agrees. One of them is the hope that this will make things _simple_ between them again.

It doesn’t. 

One sunset evening much later on finds him and Caleb and Caduceus wandering the beach outside Nicodranus. The _Ball Eater_ is a backlit silhouette in the distance, from which Nott’s screams of pain are still audible. The three of them eat fish and chips and talk about a lot of things. 

All it takes is a stray glance towards Caleb at the right moment, and then suddenly Fjord finds that he can’t look away. 

The gleam of the setting sun paints Caleb’s hair into shades of burnished copper and gold. The gently falling night makes the blue of his eyes seem even more striking, and the last of the light highlights Caleb’s profile with merciless perfection. He is _so_ handsome - has always been handsome, really, but has finally gained enough confidence to stop hiding as much, to let the group see his face, to sometimes even look them in the eye. 

There is a lean elegance to his features that some might mistake for delicacy, fragility. Fjord knows better. There is a strength inherent in Caleb’s form that could make him the equal of kings. And the keenness of his mind, the deftness of his long fingers, could one day make him the equal of gods.

Despite the strength he has seen Caleb bring to bear, despite the fact that he knows Caleb can protect himself, Fjord has also seen him in so much pain that he wants nothing more than to get down on one knee and vow to protect Caleb with his life. 

And in that moment, Fjord realizes that he’s been in love with Caleb for a very long time. 

He loves Caleb, and Fjord also realizes that there is absolutely nothing keeping him from saying it. There is no goddess he has to put first. He saw from the moment they first set foot on the beach together that Caleb loved the ocean just as much as Fjord did. There are no more secrets between them that might rear their head at the wrong moment. Fjord can’t believe that Caleb is still holding anything back after that cart ride in Felderwin, after he as good as spilled his guts out on the ground before them all. He hopes that Caleb knows the same is true of him.

And after Molly, Fjord knows that every day he waits might be the last day they have together.

But he also knows Caleb, and for all the progress Caleb has made as a person, Fjord feels fairly confident that “I love you”, all on its own, might be too much, too fast.

So he can find ways to work up to saying it.

And he can start right now. 

“I have started to forget what it was like to not be with you people,” Caleb murmurs, staring out over the water. “And we are missing one, and I am stuck on that, that we are missing one."

Fjord swallows painfully. The reminder of Yasha is like a shove in the chest. Another reason to wait. And yet, knowing that Caleb shares that pain emboldens him to speak: **“** I think the other part of it is, if you know everything that we know, and you have a choice, do you choose not to act? And sit by idly letting the rest of your life go by? Or do you act, knowing full well that you might fail entirely?”

“Well.” Caleb’s mouth draws into a thin, tired line. His fingers - free of ink stains, just for once - pick anxiously at the last of his food. “I’m at least familiar with the concept of failure.”

Fjord holds his breath. He dares to take a step closer and, sure enough, Caleb looks up at him. Their eyes meet. He fancies that he sees Caleb’s breath catch, too. 

Fjord holds his gaze, willing and praying for Caleb to see his sincerity. “You’ve got me becoming comfortable with the idea of failing with you.” He smiles tremulously. “Makes it a little less...lonely.”

Caleb visibly struggles to digest the words. But he does obviously try. Fjord holds his breath. He even sends up the briefest of prayers to his new goddess, that maybe something good can take root and grow here. 

Then some of the everpresent tension in Caleb’s shoulders seems to ease. He smiles - faint, shaky, but apparently sincere. He even lets out a breathy little huff that might count as a laugh. He inclines his head slightly towards Fjord in acknowledgement of the words, even if he doesn’t seem to know how to reply.

But that’s fine. Fjord can see that Caleb understands. He can see that Caleb maybe even agrees.

So maybe this moment can be a start. 

* * *

_5\. Darrow_

The thing he finds with Darrow is brief and bright as summer lightning, and that is okay. That's all Fjord needs it to be.

Fjord doesn’t actually _really_ pay attention to Yasha’s bout with the champion. Because what it _really_ comes down to is that Fjord is very surprised at how very attractive he finds Darrow only after discovering that Darrow is capable of putting him on his ass with minimal effort. It probably helps that, in this case, being absolutely walloped is accompanied by a resounding laugh and a hand back up to his feet and even a bit of healing to take the edge off. Darrow makes it clear that, as far as he’s concerned, the battle and the loss are all in good fun. 

Maybe its the adrenaline talking, but Fjord is surprised to find that he agrees. 

So of course he buys Darrow a drink. What with the general bustle and chaos around them, he doesn’t really remember what they talk about. All he really remembers is that laughter comes easily them both, and he feels his gaze starting to linger over Darrow’s form - the way the torchlight gleams against his dark hair, his strong jaw touched lightly by stubble, the way his muscled form fills out his chainmail…

There is a small door set into a corner of the bar, that opens up onto a very tight squeeze of an alley outside. It’s there that Fjord and Darrow find themselves stowing away for several heated minutes of kisses, of teeth and tongues and gasps and _sighs…_

It feels so good, it feels _amazing_ , and when the sound of Jester calling his name makes them pull apart, its with no small amount of disappointment on Fjord’s part.

And now that the moment has passed, he feels a familiar lurch of anxiety. “Listen…” he begins, darting a glance at Darrow’s face.

Darrow’s eyes are bright in the gloom. He brushes a thumb over Fjord’s bottom lip and leans in to kiss him one last time. “A fine way to end an evening,” he murmurs, his voice almost a purr. “And that is all it need be.”

The momentary tension leaves Fjord all in a rush. He grins back. “Have a good night, Darrow,” he says, and means it.

He finds Jester waiting patiently for him just on the other side of the door. Their eyes meet, and she gives him a wink but says nothing more. He smiles back at her, grateful and relieved. Together, they rejoin the others to leave. 

The next day, when they all wind up in the spa together by chance, Fjord and Darrow take a few minutes to steal away from the others, ostensibly to find out where the seaweed wraps are. 

They find their way there, in the end, but not without taking a few minutes in a broom closet to see if kissing each other feels as good as it did last night.

And, as it happens, it does. 

* * *

_+1 Beau_

“You have _got_ to help me.”

Fjord looks up from his third ale, blinking owlishly, to see Beau sliding into the seat across from him.

“With what?” he finally asks. 

Beau leans closer, raising one hand to the side of her mouth and jerking her thumb over her shoulder. “Nott. She’s on the fuckin’ warpath and _I’m_ gonna get caught in the middle of it.”

Fjord raises his head to stare over Beau and towards the bar. Nott is seated on a stool between Caleb and Jester. She is doing a very bad job of pretending she isn’t spying on them. 

“What did you do?” he asks, turning his attention back to Beau. 

She snorts. “Made the mistake of admitting to Nott that I—” And watching the way Beau trips headlong over her own tongue, eyes widening as she hastily stifles whatever she was about to say, is an interesting sight. “Had…feelings. About…things.”

Fjord rests his chin in his hand and stares fixedly at her, unimpressed. “Uh- _huh_.”

“And now I think she’s finally decided that she needs to get involved in my…feelings.”

“Your ‘feelings’. About ‘things.’” 

“Yeah.” Beau groans and buries her face in her hands. “Fuck, it sounds even stupider when _you_ say it. I’m in love with Jester, okay?!”

She immediately panics, raising her head and looking around like she’s afraid the entire bar might have overheard and is about to start laughing at her. This gives Fjord a second to truly digest what he’s just heard. Truth be told, the words themselves aren’t half as surprising as the fact that Beau had just spoken them out loud and to him to begin with.

As the minor shock fades, he finds himself warming to the conversation, bolstered by his gratitude in being trusted by her like this at all. “So you want me to help you do something about that before Nott figures out how to ‘help’ you instead? Maybe run interference on her?”

She flashes him a relieved grin, undercut with the tiredness born of secret-keeping that he knows so well. “I’m so glad you’re smart.”

He raises his half-empty tankard to her in a mock-toast before taking another couple of swallows. “I try.”

“I think part of why Nott’s gotten it into her head to do this now is because she’s finally noticed that you and Jester…don’t seem that interested in each other anymore? And, to be honest, that’s kind of why I’m asking you for help, too. If I thought you were — and hey, if you are, if I misread the room—”

He cuts her off as gently as he can. “You haven’t. I’m not.” 

He was never interested in Jester in the way she was interested in him. He was never interested in her beyond what she represented, a tie to a point in his life when he was told what he was and what to want and things were _simple_ even if they couldn’t be called happy. 

It feels good to be reminded that he’s moved past that internalized nonsense. It feels good to appreciate Jester for _herself_ , now. He doesn’t doubt that she was interested in him at one point. But she finally realized, without the need for words, that Fjord was never going to be able to truly reciprocate; as of late, she’s turned the fullness of her radiant attentions onto Beau, and Fjord is so happy for them both. 

But he can also absolutely sympathize with why this has left Beau flustered and tongue-tied and in denial. So it’s easy to say: “Of course I’ll help. However you need. We’ll make this work, Beau.”

She visibly slumps in relief, letting out a breath. Her smile becomes less tired and strained. “Fuck, dude, I…thanks. _Thank you_. It’s just, you’ve always been so good at helping me figure out how to talk to people so I don’t offend people I’m not trying to offend, so it’s just, like, knowing you’ve got my back on this…it means a lot. Thanks.”

She holds her fist across the table, and Fjord reciprocates the fist-bump happily.

“Think nothing of it,” he says, before polishing off his ale at last. And then, it could be anything that leads him to say what he says next. Maybe it’s the drink or the sight of Beau still looking so lost at sea. It could be the sympathy he feels and the desire to comfort her with the knowledge that she’s not alone, not broken, that leads him to add: “I mean, I’m in love with Caleb and I’ve said precisely jack and shit about it, so…not exactly in a position to judge, right here.” 

“You should, though,” Beau says, and the absolutely unhesitating way she says it would have made him choke on his drink had he had any remaining. “I mean it. It’d make him happy. You’d be good for him.”

His heart stutters in his chest, warm and fluttering as a hummingbird. His breath catches in his throat. He hadn’t realized how much her approval might mean until this moment. “You, um, you really think so?”

This time, her grin is bold and confident as ever. “Sure do.”

“Oh.” He thinks back wildly over how he’s seen Beau and Caleb’s relationship evolve, the many times he’s seen them bent close in deep conversations. He thinks to himself that, if anyone might know what would be good for Caleb besides the man himself, what he would like and how he’d feel, it might just be Beau. 

“Hey.” Her voice draws him out of his frantic contemplation. He looks up to see her still watching him. The look in her eyes is very soft. 

This time, it’s her hand that she extends across the table. Fjord hesitates even less to take it, squeeze it tight, and give it a shake.

“You and me,” she says. “Here’s to being disasters. And here’s to helping each other find a way out of it.” 


End file.
